Ascension
by Alexander12
Summary: A young man comes across one of the famed suits made by Tony Stark. After an accidental tragedy, Michael Beachtree is forced to flee with the suit, and must learn to survive on his own. JARVIS, the AI inhabiting the suit still, has bigger plans for young Michael.


(IN PROGRESS)

We were on the roof. It was cold and snow had been falling earlier in the day and when we came up he we had to clear out a space in the snow. We were drinking: cheap beer, whiskey straight from the bottle, a glass of wine between us.

"I love it up here," she said, pulling closer to me. I didn't say anything, but I put my arm around her and she laid her head on my shoulder.

"Have you decided yet?" I said, finally, after too much silence. She looked up at me, pulled away slightly, imperceptibly.

"Yeah," she said.

I waited for an answer, but she said nothing. She pulled away and took a beer and chugged it quick. She chucked the can over the side of the roof, and it landed in the open garbage cans. She smiled, in spite of herself, and I did too. She looked at me, and our smiles faded.

"I'm gonna go to Georgetown in the fall," she said. For a second, I couldn't breathe.

"Georgetown?" I said, "I didn't know that was an option."

"They have the program I want," she said.

"Minnesota has pretty good programs, too," I said.

"I want to go to Georgetown," she said, and she leaned back and laid on the roof, hands behind her head, staring up at the stars.

"Okay," I said.

We sat there in silence. I looked out at the landscape, taking it all in. The area around my house was populated by pine trees, all now heavy with snow. You could just see the edge of the commercial center of town, still full of lights but empty of people, and I ached for something I couldn't put into words.

I downed a beer, quickly, and tossed the can over, and it missed the garbage and landed about thirty feet away. I leaned back on the roof, and looked up at the sky. The sky was full of stars; very little light pollution allowed an incredible panoramic view of the sky most nights. One star, straight in front of me, got brighter and brighter and brighter and then it streaked across the sky and crashed, with a crack, into the forest just beyond the hills.

I shook Sarah, and she woke up.

"What, Michael?" she said, and then promptly fell back asleep. I sighed.

I carefully climbed over her, and stumbled inside. I could barely put one foot in front of the other. I grabbed my car keys, and went to the garage keypad. I stared at it for a moment, and I punched a few keys, but there was no response. I punched a few more keys, and it beeped angrily. I stopped punching keys.

My bike was leaning against the porch railing and I hopped on unsteadily. I pedalled towards the forest, weaving back and forth across the small two-lane that cut through the center of town.

I did love my town. I do love my town. I was born here and though I didn't want to die here it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. I loved the amount of grass and trees, I loved the cleanliness of the place in winter. In my weakest moments, like those in which I steered a bike through quiet streets, I even loved the smallness of it. Being cozy is on the knife's edge of being cramped, but i felt okay for now.

The last bit, up the hill to the forest, was straight up hill, and I paid for my illicit drinking. I felt heavy and weak and at the top of the hill I fell sideways off my bike and vomited all over the grass. I stood, brushing my knees, unsteady. I couldn't get back on my bike.

I left it, and I walked into the forest, on the footpath. I wasn't sure how deep the thing had crashed, but I was super excited. Maybe they'd let me into Georgetown if I found a new alien species or some shit. Or maybe Sarah'd go to Minnesota, for some reason. Regardless, I was gonna find that goddamn thing that fell from the sky.

I was tired, and drunk, and I almost missed the crater. I had one hand on a tree branch as I drunkley stepped into the black void of the giant hole in the ground and I fell on my ass. My hand had a grip on the branch and it stopped me at the top of the embankment and it ripped skin from my palm.

I stood up slowly. My hand hurt. I stared into the crater. There was something at the bottom. I sat down again, and slid downwards. My feet hit something hard, and with what little light came through, it shined. I reached out and touched it; cold, and metallic, and a lot of it. This close, I could see pieces all over the place. It was a suit of armor, I realized. It was red and silver and black, and I'd seen this before. I'd seen a version of this before. We all had.

I found the head, the helmet, and I put it over my head. It lit up, an interface projected right in front of my eyes. Numbers scrolled by that I did not recognize.

_Reassemble? _it wrote.

"Yes," I said.

There was a humming, and the scattered pieces started flying towards me. The chest piece came first, and it knocked me into the dirt. I struggled to sit up and then the legs and the arms and the rest all hit me at once and it knocked the breath out of me. The interface went dark.

I heard three beeps, and it came back online. The interface was different, and simplified. The cursor appeared, and it blinked in front of my face before it began writing.

_Are you a previous user? _It wrote.

"No," I said.

_What is your name?_

"Michael Beachtree."

_Age?_

"18."

There was a low hum, and it vibrated as the suit stood up on its own. This was too much for me.

_User is underage, and without classification. Would you like to go home?_

"Yes," I said, nodding inside the helmet.

_Understood._

The suit took off, flying high, and then going straight to my house.

"I left my bike," I said. The suit didn't respond.

It flew me over the town. It was a different view from this high. Things looked so small, and ugly; roofs are not pretty things no matter what you do. I could see a few people, coming out of bars and our one night club, heading for home or hotels.

I could see my house before long. I could even see the Christmas lights, blinking red and blue, even from a few miles away. It was-

Christmas lights? In August?

The suit stopped, on a dime, midair. The blinking cursor appeared again.

_Police are at the Beachtree residence. Proceed?_

"What?" I said stupidly.

_The police were called to the Beachtree residence fifteen minutes ago, on a report of a falling death. Proceed?_

I couldn't breathe, suddenly. I knew. Oh my god. I knew. I had left her up there, as drunk as I was, and she-

_They are looking for one suspect, Michael William Beachtree, who is missing from the house. Proceed?_

I didn't know what to do. We floated in mid-air. I couldn't breathe, I was gasping for air, my throat was shut, I clawed at the suit and tried to get free but I couldn't do-

I started to cry. The blinking cursor put line of text after line of text in front of my blurred eyes but I couldn't understand it. I couldn't understand it. I had made a mistake.

"She's dead?" I said, stupidly again, already knowing the truth, trying to find some loophole or some words that would allow me to go back-

"Michael," a voice said, clear as day, with a crisp British lilt. It shocked me out my tears.

"What?"I said.

"I'm going to take you away from here," the voice said, and the suit turned around and started flying me away.

"I have to go back!" I said, almost screaming, my voice catching in my throat.

"They will arrest you for murder, Michael." the voice said.

"It's my fault!"

The voice didn't respond, at first. There was silence, and then I heard a sigh.

"My name is Jarvis, Michael. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. I began to cry again and I hung limp in the suit as it flew me away, far away, towards a future I had never wanted, alone.


End file.
